


Scarlet Webs

by Skeren



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Chauvinism, Conditioning, Cravings, F/M, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isolation, Marriage of Convenience, Obedience, Pregnancy, Pseudo-Incest, Psychological Torture, Sephiroth is a woman, Sexual Abuse, Torture, Vincent is Sephiroth's Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth was born as a woman. Because of this, a lot changed, and Hojo kept his project closer to home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarlet Webs

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this sucker within a span of two days in October of 2006.
> 
> I'm still proud of it.

Law

There was a sense of law that had to be upheld, even in the midst of science and advancement. Taking it apart took precision and care, and that tended to use, in the end, a good amount of time. Sometimes those who were untalented in science simply didn't understand the effort and detail that was used in good work.

Those attitudes, unfortunately, seemed to place a great deal of limitation on the bounds by which a scientist was forced to live. It had taken careful coaxing, and intense scrutiny of his assistants, to ensure that none of his experiments were disrupted before it was time.

The hired help wasn't quite the same, and he had been pleased at Lucretia's willingness both in being wooed, as well as the fact that she seemed to share his visionary outlook on how opportunities should be approached. 

For now, she was unconscious, as she'd been for the last month, but there was really no help for it. Running his fingers over her stomach, he let a small, pleased smile cross his face. It would be well worth the time.

* * *

Masticate

He ran his fingers along the infant's cheek, dark eyes considering the silver and pale creature he held in his hands. This was going to be the pinnacle of his work. He had to maneuver very carefully to make sure that she turned out just as he needed. 

He felt it a shame the human half of the girl's mothers hadn't survived. She'd been a brilliant scientist, accommodating as well as talented. He doubted another scientist would have had the sight to allow him to start this as she had done. 

Running his gaze over his lab, he held the girl against his chest and started to set up a less standard formula regimen now that he had the time with the funeral finished. Milk, of course, but that was hardly the only thing the girl would need. He didn't want her health to go into decline because he cut off the treatments he'd started in the womb, now did he?

Studying her face again, he idly wondered what color her eyes would turn. Hopefully, they wouldn't be telling.

* * *

Power

He skated his fingers over small shoulders, gaze moving over the livid marks that were already beginning to fade. Not heal, it was too soon for that, but the bleeding had stopped far more quickly than might have been the case on a normal person. It never failed to please him to see the bruises and blemishes fade back into the pale skin. Burns had the same effect as cuts, and scratches had the same effect at bruising. Broken bones took longer, but there seemed to be a lack of disability that came with the damages.

She healed. She was strong in a way that he could only strive for, and she was his. She knew that, had tried to fight it once or twice, but he wasn't foolish. He'd put in countermeasures against her harming him in turn, and they'd paid off well. Fear wasn't the only thing he held over her, and insecurity would be worse after the efforts he'd put into her than yielding to him was. 

Six years of training and careful attention had given him these results, but they weren't perfect yet. Slipping around in front of her, he tipped her chin up and caught the glare he was being given. The child still wasn't finished, and he was fine with taking more time and personal care to ensure that she would be.

It was his pleasure.

* * *

Speed

For most people, being fast was just a side benefit. 

Unless someone was in a fight, or needed to get somewhere quickly, it wasn't a big deal. She, on the other hand, was reduced to using it in its most primal form. Running away. She used to be too young to pull it off, speed counteracted by size and close confines. 

Now, she was old enough to seriously wish she had a lock on her room, not that it would do anything. She still wasn't sure why she'd been reduced to running as her only recourse. She could remember trying to hurt him when she was younger, she _remembered_. But… the very idea of it made her ill now, and it wasn't out of distaste. Last time she'd tried she'd gotten painfully dizzy and disoriented for a good hour.

She didn't like that he'd been pleased by it. She hated that her body rebelled at the idea of striking back, so instead she just ran away, knowing it would get her more trouble and focus later. It didn't matter, she was sure she could find a room with a lock in here somewhere, she just needed to be fast. She just wanted to be left alone for a while.

* * *

Puppy-dog Eyes

She paused when she heard a soft whine from just behind her and to the side, aware it wasn't a good idea to deal with her father's other experiments, but it wasn't often that one actually tried to get her attention. Turning in place, she padded back, crouching so she was eye level with the piteous look that the red-furred creature was giving her. 

"Hello. Can you understand me?"

There wasn't a reply, verbally, and she hadn't expected one. She wasn't sure what she would have done if she had received one. She could tell she was understood though, those eyes focusing on her more intently.

"I can't let you out."

There was a sigh, but the creature didn't move away, instead just lying down near the bars of the cage. She took it as invitation and carefully ran her fingers over a patch of fur. 

"I'm sorry."

Apparently, though, the creature didn't blame her, since it didn't try to get away from being petted. She lingered there for a while.

* * *

Information

She liked to read, and books had always been a steady part of her intellectual diet. History, tactics, magic, social order, mathematics, geometry, genetics, anything that she could learn from she was given. This included mythology, since all myths had a basis in fact somewhere. 

In essence, she had been given a chance to escape when she wanted it, and if she didn't read what she was given, she knew she wouldn't be given more. Thus, she read, remembered, and made sure that she committed the lessons offered from the pages to memory. 

When he was sure she'd read the offerings, she was given new. She learned, and between lessons and tests, she formed her own opinions. 

She knew her father was pleased. At least when he was pleased he focused more on what already worked instead of creating something new.

* * *

Forgetful

She had a good memory. It was one of those things she alternately hated and liked about herself. Having a good memory meant that she never had to be taught something over and over and over again before she learned it. 

The bad part about having a good memory meant that no matter what she did, she tended to not forget it. Pain didn't just fade away, and scars stayed even though they healed from her skin. Those were times she would have preferred to forget, but one couldn't pick and choose their blessings.

* * *

Wutai

He knew that this interview was going to come up eventually, and he'd already prepared his denial, though he made sure it wasn't so clear as that. Better to have the man believe it was his own ideas at work on something this… delicate. "Hello, Mr. President."

"No need to stand on formality between old friends, Hojo." He made a gesture that indicated he could sit, but he really had no intention of staying that long, and thus declined. "Have the tests been showing good results?"

"They are coming along well… at least in consideration to her gender."

As expected, the delay caught the man's attention. "What do you mean?"

"She's very emotional when stressed, much more so than the men that the procedure was tested on once the details were cleaned up."

Not quite enough deterrent, but he saw the man reconsidering his reason for calling him in. "Is there no way to fix it?"

"She's becoming a woman, Mr. President. You know how women are."

"Yes, yes I do." When the man sat back in his chair, he knew he'd won, though it would take time to completely remove the idea from the man's mind.

"Was there anything else? I have a few projects currently not being attended to."

He smiled to himself as a wave of a hand dismissed him. Sephira would not be going to Wutai. He had better plans for her than that. Some of them were even good for the company.

* * *

Strength

Power wasn't all about what the body could offer. She learned that when she was small. If she hadn't had strength under everything else, she would have snapped long before now. She wasn't broken, but she knew she had bent close to it. For now, though, the pressure was at the limits of what he seemed to want to apply.

She knew that she shouldn't have wanted to just be 'fine', but she'd been tested, pushed, prodded, touched, hurt, denied, rewarded, trained, conditioned. So much, and she was still here. She hadn't turned into a husk and faded away. She still had a will, plans, other things only the unbroken would actually work to achieve.

Sometimes, she wondered if her father had carefully made sure she wouldn't snap. Most of the time she didn't care. Whether it was on purpose or not, it was something she still had. She was strong, and so she would remain, no matter the circumstances in which the state needed to be maintained.

* * *

Frills

She tugged on her sleeves a little and resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. The lace itched. The silk thing she had on felt about like it was trying to crawl off her body. It was loud. It smelled. She wanted to go back to her new room.

Her father had a very firm hand over hers on his arm, and he was practically dragging her. If she'd resisted more, she was sure she would have overpowered him. She didn't want to go back to living in the lab, though. She'd been told to be quiet, behave, and pay close attention to everything that was going on. 

She could do it, and she'd been given newspapers and various files to look over before they'd come as well. She was either going to be useful, or she was going to go back to the life she'd just left.

She picked useful.

Even if the lace itched.

* * *

Food

She knew exactly what rations tasted like. She could probably tell a person the exact salt content of any particular food she was given. Herbs were easily determined and picked apart, and she was overly sensitive to the fact that if something wasn't made right, she could tell every little bit of imperfection.

She wasn't a picky eater. Growing up in a lab had ensured that she was always willing to eat whatever she'd been given, be it chemical laden or something she might actually like. 

That didn't mean that she didn't try to enjoy her food when possible though.

* * *

Monthly problems

She really hated the fact that every few weeks, she bled. 

It never lasted long, as she healed quickly enough that at least the seeping wounds never continued to drain out her energy in that fashion for more than a few hours, but it took longer for the damage to knit. The first few times had been carefully done, bruising to see if it would heal. Small cuts to see if they would scar. 

When those proved to heal entirely, it moved on to burns, lacerations, more obscure tissue damage, broken bones. 

Finally, it had come to things she really didn't want to think too closely about because they were things that had actually scared her at the time. Thankfully, those she hadn't dealt with since she moved from the labs to the gilded cage of her room.

It never left the routine entirely, though. It was his way of checking if age was making her healing slow, of making sure that he had any treatments he needed to do up to date. 

She was sure it was largely unnecessary. She could protest it, but she felt the fool for the fact her pride wouldn't let her. She wouldn't ask for help, because what help was there? She would still be here. She didn't need people to know about it.

Instead, she willingly let herself be consigned to her room for the days or weeks it took to heal, resting in the dark and quiet. They never felt good, but they were a regular occurrence, and at the end they would gain her something or they wouldn't.

They simply were what they were, and she hoped that living it prevented some other unfortunate from doing the same.

* * *

Silk

Silk had to be the material she least liked. Of all cloth types she ever had to wear, it was the one that currently dominated her wardrobe. It was nice for sleep, because the smoothness didn't disturb her, but it snagged on wounds. Not true snags, but the hitch rub that she knew that lab cotton material didn't do.

It was just enough to draw her attention to them again and again, every time she moved. It reminded her of the frustrating fact that she could never do anything about it because of that block, of which she'd never determined if it was ingrained, trained, or something less savory he'd done to make it so. Her father was a scientist, a good one, and she'd put little past him.

Given a chance, she would never wear silk again. Some other material, a different material that didn't make her feel naked when even being nude didn't, and it wouldn't be _white_.

* * *

Gun

She first learned to shoot a gun when she was seven. She discovered that very same day that she didn't like them. It wasn't that the gunpowder bothered her, or that she had a problem with the mechanics of it. No, she actually had an almost perfect focus, and she was rock steady enough that the kick never did anything to hinder her aim. It was the other senses that were offended. 

While she aimed and hit the target, she didn't like the fact that it was so impersonal. She could see the person's eyes, if she tried, but in a real battle situation she wouldn't have the time to devote to it. The smells were good, in their separate elements, but the tinge of smoke made her desperately want to sneeze. She was careful not to, of course, but the urge was still there. The gun itself even felt wrong in her grip, and while she knew different ways to hold one, she'd never found a position that didn't feel entirely off. 

But the worst was the sound. Loud, ricocheting sound that rang in her ears and left her with a sensation not unlike being physically struck. She'd twitched the first few times, until she'd caught the amusement her reactions had caused, and she'd been very careful to put a stop to them. 

Overall, she could do without guns in her life, though why it was that she knew them so well was a simple fact of expediency and the fact that very few people were aware she knew how at all. They were, unfortunately, very useful.

* * *

Heels

She wasn't allowed to wear heels. At least not anymore. When she had been fourteen, she'd still been petite enough that it hadn't been a problem, but after that point she continued to get taller, and taller. Now she tended to tower over just about everyone and heels would really only make it worse. 

She still liked heels though. Not even for the added bonus it gave while kicking someone with either. When she wore heels, she felt more in control, and she couldn't help thinking that her father knew it. 

He seemed to make sure she would always be dissatisfied with what she had, so she took care to make sure that he didn't notice her _real_ reactions to most clothes presented to her. It would have only encouraged him to give her more of that of which she was not fond.

* * *

Chess

She had always enjoyed chess. Of the many tactical games and intelligence sharpening skills she'd had to learn, it was among those she'd least considered a chore. Many things he'd had to teach her had been a chore, unwelcome, painful, but chess wasn't among them. Chess was something she'd like to pass along to someone who needed sharp faculties much more than she did in the scheme of things.

"Rufus." The boy was eight if she wasn't wrong, and his only role model was his father. His mother certainly wasn't one. She was a drunk. She didn't think the world needed another president like this one if it could be avoided. "Do you know how to play chess?"

He looked around to make sure nobody was watching almost stealthily. As though talking to a woman about something like chess were a crime. There was nobody else in the room. "No?"

"Would you like me to teach you?" 

"…Okay." There was a little pause as he moved to sit across from her. "Why?"

"Because you're going to be the president, someday, and the president can't be a stupid man."

* * *

Train

There was comfort in being able to do something aggressive. Much as she might want to at times, it wasn't acceptable behavior to gag a nattering twit when all she wanted to go on about was her needlework. It was entirely mind dulling. 

It was discouraging when she found herself wondering what specific chemical combinations went to some fool of a woman's hair color.

It got worse when some people had apparently decided her appearance was fashionable. She'd never seen so many hideous variations of pale blond before then, and she was grateful when people realized that they simply didn't look good. For the most part. Personally, she figured they missed the fact that her hair was silver, not blond. Or white. Or some strange shade of blue. 

It made her shudder just remembering the trend. Focusing back on the present, she kicked a little so her skirt would go where she wanted it to, then swept into a turn and cut, the blade mostly resting along her arm until the end of the swipe. Even if she had to deal with politics day in and day out, she didn't forget that she was still a weapon.

On occasion.

* * *

Lace

She looked at the… clothing piece, then looked back to her father. A moment later she quite calmly dropped the garment and retreated to the far side of the room. "I'm not wearing that."

"No?"

"No." She had a few lines she wouldn't cross, not unless she was made to, and apparently this was one of them. It was bad enough the scratchy material made it into a good deal of her clothing, she wasn't putting it against the sensitive parts of her body. 

"Perhaps I would like you to wear it." The look on his face said she was being amusing. He hadn't expected her to actually wear it, and she forcibly quelled the part that said she should just to throw him off guard. 

He wouldn't have gotten it if he didn't want to see it, so going that road would be pointless. "I won't." 

Sighing, he gestured to the bit of carpet in front of him. "Come here." He waited until she did as told then cupped her cheek in one of his palms, nudging her to kneel with the other hand. Training ensured she went. "Why are you feeling so contrary today?"

She considered not answering the question, or answering dishonestly, but was aware of a buzz in the back of her mind that asked if she really wanted to upset him when he was in a 'generous' frame of mind. It tended to make him creative. "The lace itches."

He tipped her chin further up, and she shifted position so it didn't give her a horrible kink in her neck. She didn't try to stop him. "Is that all it is?"

No, it wasn't, but it was the only reason she was going to share. "Yes."

His look said he knew better, but he released her face, undoing his fly and sitting back down in his chair. "That's fine. You don't need to wear them. Show me you at least appreciated the gesture."

"Sir." She closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again when she felt the hand tangling in her hair. She considered growling, showing she wasn't in the mood, but she didn't. Instead, long practice kicked in and she went where he pulled, wondering if she shouldn't have made the concession after all.

It was too late to change her mind now.

* * *

Veiled

She sighed and listened to the man talk, and talk, and talk some more. She'd thought that a few of the scientists had liked to listen to themselves go and go, but it was nothing compared to this! She just sort of stared in morbid fascination. 

This was one of the people going to Wutai? This chatty thing that seemed to not need air? He was _bouncing_. He wasn't going to survive to get back here. That was sort of a shame, because she was sure he could talk some of those political brats into submission if he put his mind to it.

Not that she really was going to think too much about it, because why get attached? If he died, then he'd be dead and she got her hopes up for no reason. First, though, he had to go through his treatments.

"Sit _still_. This will take long enough as it is." 

He finally froze, then flashed her a bright smile. "So, how come you're the one doing this instead of the creepy guy who did the evaluations?"

She paused, then jabbed him with the needle. This was just the first part of the mess. "He's handling another person who got the promotion. I've done this before so I'm the one who gets to handle you."

He twitched after the mako was dispensed, but the grin didn't fade. "Oh really? You can handle me any way you want."

She gave him a dry look and shoved him to lay back. "Stay still. You're young to be a SOLDIER." 

When she circled around to his other side to needle the other arm, he followed it with his eyes. "What can I say? I'm just a bit of a prodigy."

"You're a bit of stupid." She applied the mako, then moved to quickly strap him in place before it could hit his system. She knew the first dose sent some people into convulsions. Sometimes people just didn't take it as well as the tests implied they would.

"Yeah, that too."

The rest of the procedure took hours, but the teen just wouldn't stop talking. She sort of admired him for it by the time he was sent to a room for observation. That didn't mean she wasn't glad for a moment of quiet.

* * *

Improbable

Sometimes she wondered if she was pinning all her hopes on an idiot. He was only sixteen yet, so she knew she just had to be patient, but still…

"One of these times the woman you take to bed is going to pull a gun and shoot you. Where was your guard?" She was likely more aggressive on his cuts in dabbing them clean than she needed to be, or even than she needed to do at all, but she'd rather him not realize this could have been bypassed just by using her Cure. 

"I thought she was alone for one-" He paused on a hiss as she pressed harder on a cut. "I ditched him a few hours ago."

"They're with you for a reason you know." When he started to speak, she pressed firmly on the cut on his cheek. "It's to keep someone from killing you, or, as happened here, shoving you down a flight or three of stairs. How did you not get broken bones?"

"I relaxed."

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back slightly to look him in the eye, tone bland. "You relaxed."

"Yes, I relaxed. I know how."

"I won't ask for what." Shaking her head and resisting the urge to smirk over his almost offended expression, she cast full cure on him. 

The offended look immediately turned incredulous. "Why didn't you do that in the first place?"

"Why should I have?" She didn't let him lean on her.

He frowned, watching her get to her feet. "Why do you always do that?"

She saw no reason to answer the question directly, smirking. "Maybe you've been too stupid for me to want to give you a chance. Maybe when you get a little less foolish, hmm?"

"You shouldn't need to 'give me a chance'."

She just shook her head. "Of course not, and it seems rather unlikely, doesn't it?"

She was already moving for the door when she caught the look on his face that showed he finally realized what he'd just said about himself.

* * *

Candles

She'd found, much to her own astonishment, that she _enjoyed_ almost complete sensory deprivation. Not the absolute kind, because in the dark and wet and weightlessness it would be all too easy to lose herself and never want to come out again. It had taken far too much more than she wanted to give in terms of power to another. She didn't need to yield more when she already lost so much.

But this form, this form of it wasn't complete, and it soothed her, enough so that she often stopped feeling the aches of her body, those times there were any, and she could stop thinking. The room was small, black walled and non-reflective. It was a concavity that had been created out of a small area, almost but not quite like total deprivation, as there was still warm water and weightlessness. There was a ledge, at eye level when she was folded and relaxed back in the water, and this was where her focus was now. 

It could be meditation, reinforcement, denial, reward, she didn't care. _This_ was a little touch of time in which she was permitted to do nothing, act in no way, and really, spent no more power than was needed for her to still exist. It never occurred to her to drown herself. She really didn't want to die, no matter her life's offerings.

She set the lit candle on the ledge as she sank down into the water, gaze intent on the tiny flame. It was her anchor while she let everything else go.

* * *

Destination

She was being followed. Ducking sideways into an alley, she frowned just a little when she saw a flash of silver go by. It was enough to have her peeking back out of her hiding place to make sure it wasn't just an old woman. Of course, it wasn't, though it seemed like being followed was an overestimation of what the woman had been doing.

Sometimes she dodged irregular people to the area, just in case, but she decided she didn't need to in this instance. Padding after the taller woman, she cleared her throat. "Hello? Would you like to buy a flower miss?"

The way she stilled before turning almost made her sad. Poor thing could really use a little friendliness. "How much are they?"

"For you? A gil."

There was a hesitation before she pulled out a coin to give her, accepting the flower she was given in turn. "Thank you."

"No need, you looked like you could use a flower." Smiling, she waved before turning and heading off towards another sector of the city. She hoped that helped, but she wasn't about to stick around.

* * *

Wild

She'd never been to a forest. She'd never even left the city proper, though she could attest that she knew it very well, even the places normal people really weren't supposed to go. She wasn't normal, so they couldn't claim that that applied to her, it would be pointless. 

When her father left on trips, be it business or vacation, she was left behind to attend to the ongoing maintenance of projects and to do the paperwork that he left behind. It didn't bother her. It was a timeframe in which she had a stretch of freedom. Not as much as she wished, as she was always much too tightly wound with violence by the time he returned, but she still made sure to enjoy the first day or two before she started to get uneasy. She didn't want to consider what caused the reaction in her.

But, she knew the city well, where it was full of crime, where the flower girl sold her wares, where the best under plate restaurants were. In a way, she'd become a common sight to the people under the plate, and they stayed out of her way as long as she kept out of their affairs. 

She had one dress for the excursions, it having been given to her by her friend in the SOLDIER ranks after he crossed paths with her while she was down under the plate. He tended to know when she went now because she had to fetch it from him before going. She'd found that it did, indeed, help her stand out less. 

Listening to one of the Turks talk about the world, all grand gestures and overdone theatrics, she had to wonder if it was really all that different out there than it was in here.

* * *

Zack

Sometimes, when her father was out of the city, she felt the intense need to go spend time with other people. She felt more relaxed, less on edge, less violent. Overall, she felt… different. Not the kind of different she usually did, with her surreal eyes and too pale hair that made her feel both ancient and unaging. Not that unwelcome kind of different. Instead, she just felt normal. As normal as she could at least.

This meant that she wanted to spend time with the people who made her feel less freakish. The SOLDIERs. Some of them were idiots. Some of them were funny. Some shy, and others had gotten her to break their fingers for their rudeness, of which hadn't been repeated. She was Hojo's daughter, so she knew all of them, and they all knew her.

She knew of the ones who weren't among the ranks when the war finally came to a close, just as she knew everyone who came through the labs, fewer though there now were, to get promotions or to become one of the mighty. Most of them would give her a smile or nod in passing, having the mixed feeling for the stand-in for Hojo when they came in for shots and tests, but they were overall less cautious of her.

Zack was one who was even more such, younger than many of the other veterans, and an insatiable flirt besides. He was one of the few she actually tolerated the touch of, because she'd long since realized he was harmless. To her at least. She'd seen what he did to someone who posed even an abstract sort of threat those few times when she was free to roam. In essence, he was a friend.

A friend who just saluted her with his blade as she came level with the practice field and nearly got himself skewered. Sighing softly, she just shook her head and laughed, gaze flitting to the young blond who was enjoying the yelp his sparring partner had made apparently too much. At least if the fact he'd just gotten tackled was any indication.

* * *

Green

Mako was green. Healthy plants were green. Life, in many of the accepted forms, tended to be green. 

Her associations to the color were all far more personal than anything as abstract as plants, her memories leaning far more towards the former than the latter in the form of the green of her eyes and the burn of something that wasn't blood in her veins. The earliest dosing of mako she remembered was at four. At that point it had been monthly. By the time she was six, it was every two weeks.

When she was nine, she was given the dubious honor of spending a few weeks under observation in one of the mako tanks. She'd clung to the person who had gotten her out, and was almost sure it had been her father. The first day or so after that burning cold was still a haze, no matter how she tried to remember. He'd been the one who was there when she could finally focus after the fog, so he likely was the one that she remembered vaguely as soothing the tremors.

Learning so well to bear the burn of mako had a downside. Pain was no object, it was there or it wasn't, and it had no affect on her. She could ignore it well, and if it wasn't in a place or at a time when she wanted to notice it, she wouldn't. It made other tests her father had done go easier and better ignored. It had also had the intense downside of thoroughly upsetting a few people when she had hurt herself and was too focused to notice. 

Thus, she had to be aware, alert, and relaxed all at once. It was stressful, and it was her life.

She wondered if any of the people who used the phrase 'materia bright eyes' ever realized that she took it as more insult than compliment.

She doubted it.

* * *

Consideration

She wanted to laugh. It wasn't laughter in a good way either. Leaning in, she brushed the barest of kisses over his cheek. 

"Thank you, but no. I really can't." It was a murmur, and she gave him a tiny, sad smile as she stepped back. 

"Seph-" She could already see he wanted to protest, and how, so she simply rested her fingers against his lips. 

"Go back to your girlfriend Zack. I pretend I don't know her name, and I don't tell anyone that I've ever seen her. I _can't_ find out where she lives. Please understand."

He shook his head a little, taking her hand in both of his. "Why? It can't be that bad can it?"

"Yes, it can. Go on, tell her I said hello."

"But-"

"No, Zack. Get Cloud to go with you. I'm sure he'd love to." She didn't like the fact that she'd just crushed his hopes about the two important women in his life having a get-together, but she actually cared about him. She didn't want to run the risk of knowing something that could hurt him as much as that. Not more than she already did.

"…Okay. You have a good night then, alright Seph?"

"I'll do my best." Pulling her hand free of his grip with gentle care, she turned and made her way back in the direction of the building she called home.

* * *

Logical

She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that there was some kind of legal reason why she had found herself caught under her father's whim. At one point she'd found a possibility, and she could remember the chill that had run down her spine when she had traced her fingertip across her long-dead mother's signature. At one point, apparently she had almost been male, but something about the experiments that her mother had consented to had stopped that development and regressed her back to being a female.

On rare occasions, when she dared to feel whimsical, she wondered what might have been different if the timing of that particular addition, experimentation, whatever it might be called, had been a little sooner or later. Would she be a man? 

Would she have a life of her own? 

The rain-streaked window couldn't give her any answers.

* * *

Metallic

She rolled her braid back and forth between her hands, a lazy motion he was pretty sure she didn't notice she was doing. It meant that, for the time being, she was comfortable and relaxed. He didn't get to see her like that all that often, when he saw her around at all.

"Hey there princess." She paused her actions, and he noted almost the exact moment when she went back to being relaxed, since she tipped her head back slightly to stare at the oddly colored display that lit the horizon. "Hojo out of town again?"

"Good morning Zack." He had the feeling he should have felt put off by the disinterested tone in her low voice, but he wasn't, instead just perching on the wall just behind and to the left of her. She didn't let many people stay in her reach like that, and he was sort of pleased with himself that he'd both noticed, and earned her trust enough that he could get there. 

He really tried to avoid thinking about why someone raised in the city like she had been would feel the need to be so on guard all the time though. "Good morning to you too. I'll take that as a yes. I'm on leave today."

"Really?" She finally turned her gaze from the sunshine, and he just bet that she didn't realize the blue and strange green of the sunrise made her hair look more metallic than it usually did, bronzed. He decided it didn't suit her. "Then why are you still here Zack? I would have thought you gone under the plate by now."

"Nah, not today. Girlfriend's mom is keeping her in. There was a scare a few days ago when some people got too close to their area with some explosives. So, guess what? That means all us SOLDIERey types would get more notice since people are keeping a sharp eye out for it."

Ah, there was that look. She turned back to stare out across the wastes that surrounded the city. He really did believe they were horrible. Give him a nice dense jungle any day instead of this too dry place. "Why tell me about that?"

"Hey, even when I'm not around I know you wander. Especially when you have a free day like this." He reached down and brushed her arm, then got down. Some days it was a gamble. One time she'd tried to break his hand and only a bit of speed and her catching herself had saved him some pain. 

"I can take care of myself you know." And there she went, getting up to head off somewhere. Of course, that meant he, who had chosen this fine morning to pester her, had to follow. 

"Yeah, I know you can. You have to be the strongest woman I know." 

She glanced back over her shoulder, and he didn't even try to repress a grin as he caught the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. "That would be because of how I happen to be put together." A short lull, though not long enough for him to jump in, passed before she resumed speaking. "You don't need to follow me you know."

"Yeah, I know, but everyone needs a friend every now and again. How does the idea of breakfast sound? My treat!" 

"You have no idea what my metabolism is like." She was definitely amused now, he could hear the undertones of it if he listened past the dryness.

"Eh, maybe not, I can afford it. We get paid enough to cover our own when we leave the local area after all, and I know you know how much we can eat."

"Yes, I know." He could hear the sigh, but when he moved up level with her, he was glad to see the wry smile.

* * *

Chain of Command

In Midgar, there was a certain order in things. The slums were for the lowly, the untaught, and the unwanted. The upper plate was for the false, the glittery, and the overly sought. The labs, by contrast, were for the important, the misused, and the brilliant. In terms of who had say, it went upper class, lab folk, of either kind, then slums. 

The slums were, to many in the lab, somewhere that they could only wish to end up if they had enough patience. Others, also of the lab, looked down on them in disdain. The first group wasn't always willing to be there, and the second group loved their work. And what of the ones caught in the middle? 

Being caught in the middle it was more simplistic. Not military, yet military trained. SOLDIER tested, yet unapproved. Being high society in presentation without owning anything. Not free enough to leave and go to the slums. Not slave enough to not help the scientists in the labs, but with no choice when turned on for tests. It meant that left someone in limbo, an intelligent plaything both beyond and below any sense of order imposed by others. She knew many things she shouldn't; she merely had to wait for a chance to use them.

* * *

Smells

She wondered, at times, if people really believed that she fell for their false fronts. 

Of course, given any thought at all, she knew they did. She was an enhanced human, more powerful than they in so many ways, and while they knew it on a primal level they refused to show it on a civilized one. It wasn't even that she acted in a way that would prompt the reactions, though she was sure some would disagree, but it was the fact that, no matter what she did, other people were aware.

She could smell the fear, arousal, other things. More often than not they were mixed. Even with those signals, people still smiled, showed nothing in their face, hid it well in their body language, lied with everything in their being. And still, beyond it all, she could tell. She didn't act on the scents, knew better than to show she knew their true feelings on facing her.

Instead, she avoided the ones who were afraid, knowing that things that were frightened, when felt cornered, would attack. She'd been in that position before, so she was aware it wasn't just a physical reaction. It was one that would work on a psychological level as well, and she had no urge to set off anyone's primal instincts to prove themselves.

She wasn't afraid of those that coveted her, and she wasn't bothered by the jealous. She just kept herself away from unwelcome hands and ignored any glares that slipped through smiles. She was, in many ways, living in a battleground. If nothing else, at least she was aware she would never need be concerned that she was out of challenges. 

Merely negotiating humankind was a chore all its own.

* * *

Government

She wasn't sure what to consider the government. She was overly familiar with it, and unlike history, there was no designated royalty. There was the Shinra family, collapsible, having risen to the top through money instead of bloodlines. Not that bloodlines weren't important. Money, power, reputation, if your family didn't have them then you had nothing to offer.

She, personally, knew her father to be two, if not all three of the important qualifiers. She was in a good position and well known to be a friend of the young Shinra heir's. At times, it made it just that much harder to be social, but it also gave her an edge.

Who wanted to insult someone held in such high regard by the future ruler of the world? Certainly not they. And if she were to find herself in a position to do them a favor later? Why, they could say that they had done her well in the past.

That was their government. More than half the time she preferred spending her time in the slums. The people there were more civilized.

* * *

Friends & Family

She had friends. Maybe not exactly the traditional kind, who did their best to go out shopping or to the movies as many of the people she had to call peers would boast, but she had a few. None of them were women, and the only one that might have had a chance was more a co-worker than anything. 

She dealt with the Turks on a regular basis, her contact with the Shinra family through her father having long since given her a good dose of their company. A couple of them had horribly dry humor, others were flamboyant, and she'd seen the group change from what it had been when she was a child to the specialized bodyguard killers they had become. She'd met some that were long dead now.

Just as she knew of Turks that were long dead, so she knew of SOLDIERS. She wasn't one of them, had never been permitted to be, but they all knew her. She was the doctor's daughter, the one that they tried to make appointments with instead of the man himself when something happened, or that they would ask questions of if they were worried about their reactions to something. 

Those were the people that she never had to worry about getting too close to, because they wouldn't spy on her and had their own kinds of loyalties. Even if they saw something wrong, they wouldn't question, and if they went behind her back, the others would take care of it for her. It had happened once or twice, but she had some friends among the ranks.

And among those people was the person she had to call family. Her father. Personally, there were many days when she'd prefer to have the friends to the family, but sometimes she wasn't so sure.

She knew, at the very least, she wasn't alone.

* * *

Dawn

Waking up had to be the part of the day he best looked forward to. He knew he had tests and notes to handle, along with routine maintenance of any ongoing projects, but that was later in the day, and some days a project came to a close, needing to be set aside so the processed information could be used for bigger and better things.

Most projects, in fact, came to a close. He had a few that were… no longer in his sphere of influence, but they were the rare outstanding exception. He knew, at some point, his favorite long-term experiment was going to end up subjected to unknown factors. There was really no help for that. He knew he wouldn't die, but she would never realize anything if she never had time away from him.

Unfortunately, those were times when being a good scientist required sacrifice to get the goal that was to be the ultimate end. Still, he knew he had time before it would come to pass, and the morning would remain his favorite time of day until it did so.

In the predawn, he tended to get a shower, get dressed, and finally check on Sephira. He'd long since gotten her to the point where she didn't wake in normal fashion. She did wake up on her own, at times, but usually, on those days where he didn't wake her, she would continue to sleep. He'd tested the theory a few times in her younger years, and apparently her more intensive lab stay had inured her to sleeping through the typical alarms and noises that accompanied the morning.

As he'd taken select care in making sure to talk around her enough while she was resting that she learned to tune it out as well, it came to touch. He found it a waste of the peaceful expression on her face to ever do something so placid as shake a shoulder, so he didn't do it. Instead, he'd run a hand up her thigh, press kisses to her lips. 

She'd be awake by then, but that wasn't the full reason of the exercise. As such, she knew to stay still even if she opened her eyes, and he'd let his hands go where they pleased. He only stopped when he got the look out of her that said she'd be in a state for a while if he left then, which he would, giving her a parting kiss before going to check on his other experiments.

She would never again get the kind of devoted attention he'd spent years giving her, so he wasn't worried about the sacrifice he would have to make when she finally left for a time.

She would be back.

* * *

Hopeless

"Don't bring it up, Spike."

He hadn't realized that he'd been staring, but apparently Zack had. He didn't quite get the source of the request, though, and he looked over at his friend, blinking. "Why?"

"She'll just brush you off, get uncomfortable. Believe me, I know, I don't like leaving it alone either." He didn't like the look of resignation in Zack's eyes. It was all wrong. Zack was _Zack_. He wasn't even supposed to know what failure was, let alone resignation.

"They why do it? If you don't like it, and you see it, and she knows you do, then why not do something about it?" He looked back over to the woman in question, seeing the way she expertly avoided touch. He understood that reaction. Personally understood it, and he couldn't understand how a woman like that could have ended up with that same set of reactions that he'd had when he first joined Shinra. 

"Because she doesn't want me to know." He was slumping. Zack was slumping. He could hardly believe his eyes. "And she won't tell me the cause. It think I've figured it out but…"

"You're not even going to try?" He could hear the disbelief in his own voice, and apparently so could Zack, because he shook his head and flashed him a tiny grin.

"Never said that at all Spike." He reached over and ruffled his hair, then hip checked him so he could go by. "I'm just taking the scenic route."

He blinked, watching the man make his way across the room, then frowned, noting the way Sephira relaxed as his friend stole her hand away from some hopeful that had been introducing himself. Yeah, he could see the way his friend was taking, but he wondered if Zack really got the fact that it wouldn't fix it. 

He resolved to figure it out, then he'd do something about it himself. The woman had always been good to him, in her quiet way, it was the least he could do. Thus resolved, he went to go hassle Reno for some answers.

* * *

Spray

When it rained, it was different in the city. Even below the plate things slowed down, people avoiding the back alleys as they ended up slimy and rank. She'd quickly learned not to venture down there until it had been raining a while. The smell was too sharp for her to handle when it was just barely wet.

Above the plate, it was a separate thing. People hid indoors or under umbrellas, and the water from the sky was cursed as both annoyance and unwanted. Many of the upper classed people she knew tended to not see the way the smog cleared for a while, more focused on the fact that their clothes might be harmed merely through the process of getting wet.

She'd never understood how someone could not enjoy the rain when it made it easier to breathe, or why people found so much against it. When she could, she went out and stood in the rain.

She really didn't care if people stared because her clothes were white. She had higher priorities.

* * *

Shameless

Modesty was a perplexing thing. Usually, she had no trouble relating what other people were talking to her about, be it weaponry or fashion. Much as she loathed fashion, it was fascinating, though removed from her. Even sex she had more than a passing intimacy with, though she was technically a virgin as of yet. But modesty, that was another matter entirely. 

She knew that she would, if told, strip in the middle of a room with people who she'd barely met or never knew. She grew up in a lab, both as a subject, then older as an assistant. All of the various technicians had, at some point or another, been strangers to her. They rarely touched her, and even then only with a medical purpose or feel to it. Thus, it never bothered her when she was young. When she was older, other people still didn't touch her, and what touch she did receive, while at times in rather public places, she was sure went unnoticed.

She'd never found it within her to be self-conscious, and she'd learned early that people will ignore just about anything if it seems as though it's supposed to be happening. This, modesty, and to a certain extent shyness, was foreign to her.

These conversations were the rare times she actually listened intently. They didn't sound like emotions she wanted to experience, but she still felt robbed.

* * *

Thistle

He had brambles in his hair. 

On top of that fact, he had a barely conscious redhead leaning into his side who had apparently gotten too close to a cactuar. Ignoring the pinpricks that came from playing support, he got the man to the cabin and sat him down before starting to pluck out the spines. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Awww, and here I thought you liked me!" If the man hadn't slurred the words together so much, he wouldn't have been worried. Really.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're suicidal."

"Nah, better me than the king y'know."

He shook his head and cast a cure on the man, leaning to check his eyes. "Rufus isn't here Reno." They weren't focusing. Damn it.

"No?"

"Nope." 

"Then why the hell did I let myself turn pincushion for? It's only you here!"

"Hm." He just shook his head and continued to look over the redhead. If he couldn't figure out his own motives, he wasn't going to even try to decipher them. "I have brambles in my hair."

"Well, I guess I'll just help you with that then!" 

Sometimes Cloud wondered if Reno really was an idiot, or if he just faked it really hard. At the moment, he was leaning towards the latter.

* * *

Company

The entire foundation of the world was based on commerce. If the company fell, there wasn't anything in the wings to replace it. More than that, there had been active campaigning to destroy anything that might even have been considered as an alternative.

She knew it, and found the entire process morbidly fascinating. She was in a position to listen, to hear rumors about Avalanche. If they succeeded in their goal, did they not realize what they would do to the economy? They would destroy civilization in a fell swoop and leave people floundering afterward.

She didn't approve of their rebellion, but she found that she also didn’t disagree. She'd seen how badly the planet had been charred in the place where Midgar sat, and if other places were not this way, she would not wish it upon them. 

As a plan, just a careful backup in case her other efforts were to fail, or a happenstance led to the rebels to succeeded, she started to put together something to fall back on. At least, she started to put together the plans.

* * *

Sun

I felt odd to be out in the unfettered sunlight. She'd been traveling for a few weeks now, and she knew they would head back to Midgar soon, but she still found herself pausing every time she went outdoors. The colors were all tinted differently, almost naked, and the sun felt hotter, even in the places that still had snow. 

Maybe especially in the places that had snow. She knew there was a misconception, even among the SOLDIERS, that her sense of temperature was skewed because she'd always worn the same types of clothes, no matter the weather. Her husband would likely continue to think the same because of the fact that she'd felt no urge to get coats or jackets thicker than was needed to conceal her skin.

Mostly, that wasn't the case, it just didn't bother her. She could feel the tiniest shift of temperature, but she ignored it because otherwise she would always be too hot or too cold. Her inner temperature never changed in spite of her surroundings, so she knew the fact that she often seemed to have cold hands was mostly imagination.

She had always liked gloves. They muffled the world from being nothing but sharp edges. Another downside of being hypersensitive was that the very air tasted radically different. Most people wouldn't see this as bad, but she could _taste_ the fact that the air was cleaner, could smell that everything was more alive. 

It was completely different, and she found herself with an intense yearning to never go back to Midgar. 

Of course, she would, because Midgar was where her husband would eventually rule his company from, but she wouldn't tell him because he might oblige her. 

She didn't come so far to end up alone on a craving.

* * *

Svelte

Well before he'd acted on his interest, he'd been aware of her grace. She'd always been taller than he was, an adult before he even realized the discord of being a teenager. Yet, even during a few times of jest, he'd never contemplated her in less than objective, if usually a fond, light. 

For a long time, she'd taken up the role of mentor. She taught him some things that he only just had realized came from her, gaining an insight only seeing her on the regular basis as sharing a home could provide. She didn't know how to cook, had no inclinations for cleaning, and he found it interesting the way things always got done. 

When he watched her move around the house, it sometimes seemed that she was further away from him then she should be. He might have married her, had the only rights to her, but he was keenly aware that he didn't own her.

If he tried to suggest that state of affairs he was almost sure that's she'd break some important part of his anatomy. Instead, he'd think about it quietly and watch her practice with weaponry that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere one day. 

As long as she didn't go anywhere else, this worked well enough for him. He already had the world, he could wait for her.

* * *

Lick

She eyed the chocobo. It eyed her back. It would not win. She was the human here. Mostly human. Humanoid thing.

Okay, that wasn't the point. The point was that she was going to win over the bird. 

She'd never been on one before.

Not that she was afraid of the bird, and she was going to pretend complete ignorance over the snickering she heard behind her. She would focus on the bird. 

"You don't have to-" The amused voice cut off when she flailed a hand in his general direction.

"Sh." She didn't even look at him, instead offering the bird the greens she had in hand. This was something that normal people managed every day. She could handle it. 

Getting on the bird posed another problem, but the creature stayed still until she was on its back, even if it took longer than she had of greens. She didn't appreciate the fact she was being snickered at. Really, truly didn't. 

Of course, she'd have much better ground for upset if the bird wasn't trying to groom her skirt down into something it deemed acceptable. 

She decided that next time she would come alone. Then she wouldn't have the almost overwhelming urge to kick the man she came with.

She felt better when her bird decided that his hair was a viable target for grooming as well. Smiling just a bit, she waited for her companion to get ready to go.

* * *

Succulent

She didn't see the appeal. Leaning back in her chair, she looked across to the Turk in the room with her and raised an eyebrow. 

"What?" Blue eyes moved over her expression quickly, then darted around the room before settling back on her, and the redhead put a hand up as though preparing to scrub his face. "I got something on me?"

"No, you don't have anything on you." 

His hand dropped as he gave her a wary look. "Then what is it?"

"I'm trying to figure out what has Cloud so interested in you." She shifted in her seat, folding her arms as he stilled, then slid into a grin. As though that wasn't suspicious.

"What can I say? I'm just that kind a special. You don’t think he deserves a Turk all his own?"

"I think he has a male lover already actually."

He deflated a little, just shy of a pout, already leaning forward on his knees to make his case. "Aw c'mon, you can't tell me the shortstop is taken can you? I mean, who would take some other fool over me?" He paused just long enough to slide into a grin. "I'm the greatest yo." 

She collected a pillow and none to gently popped him in the face with it. "You're about as appealing as a toad Reno."

He caught the pillow before it hit the floor, blinking a few times. "You're a cruel woman Mrs. Shinra."

"You expected anything else?"

"Hell no! So, up for cards?"

She sighed and shook her head, lips quirking just a bit. "Of course." She waited until he started digging in his pockets before continuing. "I'll make sure you tell me later you know."

"Yeah, yeah boss lady, I know. Now shh, time for war, alright?"

* * *

Hojo

She leaned on the doorway of the bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. She didn't want to wake her husband before she needed to, especially not when she was in this mood. He worried enough, though he tried hard not to show it most of the time. 

He just didn't understand the breadth and depth of what her life had been, even with his glimpse, and she felt no urge to inform him. In a way, he was an innocent. She'd done as much as she could over the years to keep him from turning into his father, and in a way, she'd gotten her payoff. 

She was free of her father, to a great extent. 

She got time alone. She got attention she actually wanted. 

She wasn't supposed to miss it. That had never been part of the plan. She'd get away from living like that, and she'd finally be happy, unconfined, satisfied with life. She wasn't. She was lonely. She didn't _like_ having so much idle time. 

She'd even started to make sport of Rufus' office staff, and that really wasn't acceptable. Clenching her hand, she shook her head hard and moved across the room to get dressed. The new clothes were leather, velvets, wool, dark colors. When she brushed her fingers over her husband's side, she kept the action light, deciding to let him sleep. He didn't get nearly enough rest.

Tying her hair up in a tail, she went to go visit with the SOLDIERS. If none of them were up, she'd harass the Turks. She would not let her father win, especially not like this.

* * *

Sandwich

Her sense of taste had been off ever since she got pregnant. At first, it had been subtle, just a little off sense here or there, something she normally liked being too salty, sweet, or bitter. Then it had gotten worse, cravings for things she didn’t like at all flaring up as she went after things that had far too much flavor and not nearly enough substance.

She tried chip flavors she liked one minute only to hate the next. Pasta of any kind made her want to back away and hold her stomach in nausea. Cookies were craved with things that no cookie should ever come near. 

And the pinnacle of it all was the sandwich. So far it was the only thing in her fluctuating diet that she hadn't stopped liking. She tried not to eat it around Rufus, because the one time she had, he'd looked distinctly queasy.

Cornbread, roast beef, bananas, ranch dressing, pickles, cream cheese, and honeyed chicken. She was sure she'd find it disgustingly strong after she had the baby, but right now, it was the best tasting thing on the planet.

* * *

Iron

She ran her fingers over the swell of her stomach, aware it was visible even through her clothing now, and tried to ignore the murmur in the very back of the mind that was wondering if she might lose the baby. Now wasn't really the time for pessimism, and the pains could be nothing. 

Could be. Hopefully, her father would confirm it. 

She knew Rufus wouldn't be pleased she'd gone without him, but he didn't need to come with her every time she had a worry. He had a business to run, and was busier now than he'd been when he'd just been vice president. She was aware of the possibilities, but at the moment she didn't care.

Shaking her head, she turned on her motorcycle and headed back towards where her father would be this time of day. Whatever else he was, her father was a scientist first. 

That meant, with his bent for secrecy, that he was the only one who would know if there _was_ anything wrong anyway. She'd live, and she wanted to put the baby at no risk if it might not.

Rufus could just deal with it; she'd call him when she knew.


End file.
